


Rose of Eden

by dewdroponleaf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Angst, Catholicism, Crushes, Daddy Shiro, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Priest!Shiro, Priests, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slice of Life, Unrequited Crush, but not in the sexual way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-06 11:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewdroponleaf/pseuds/dewdroponleaf
Summary: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." ~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-8*~*Shiro thought his path in life was clear, as the head priest of the Church of Lionsberg, a small rural town. Look after their church and the many orphans that call it home with Allura by his side. Spread the word of God to the people of the small community. Keep himself from setting Slav on fire.But a new arrival in the form of a beautiful boy with sad jeweled eyes shakes him at the very core, as he drags out sides of him that he has buried in the corners where light cannot reach. Shiro and Keith help sew each other together, with the help of their own little family.





	1. Entertaining Angels Unawares

_Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui..._

 

The mellow gold of the candles at the altar flickered gently with each whispered prayer, washing the empty chapel in a soft, ethereal glow. They seemed to be listening to the dark figure kneeling before the cross, wondering what desperate need could cause a man to pray this deep into the night.

 

When the last Ave Mary left his lips, Shiro crossed himself before rising to his feet and surveying the empty church.

 

In the day pure white sunlight would shower in through the small opening in the ceiling, almost as though their Creator had come to earth to keep watch over the holy mass. Jeweled crimsons, soft greens, calm blues would scatter the ceiling in a shower of color, painted by the stained glass at the front of the church.

 

But on clear evenings like this one, the liquid silver of moonlight would take its place, shining softly as it nested on the grain of the wooden pews and steps leading to the altar.

 

Shiro had seen every facet of its beauty over the years in which he had run to the chapel for sanctuary.

 

To lock himself in his room would mean facing his own demons with no one to come to his aid. His brothers and sisters, while as devout and loving as anyone, had no stake in this battle of his. Here, with the moon and the candles and something that was inexplicably more than him...he was safe. As safe as he could ever be.

 

"Father Shiro."

 

A soothing murmur. Sister Allura's. Shiro turned to face the nun, who held a half-burnt candle in a holder in one hand and a bronze wand with a small "hat" in the other.

 

"Ah. Sister. The candles?" Shiro asked, nodding to the wand. He hadn't realized it was so late that it was time for Allura to start putting the lights out.

 

"Yes, but...what brings you here this early in the night?" A hint of worry creased her stately features.

 

"Call it preemptive measures. I was praying for a good night's sleep." He said with a wry smile. Allura's expression did not ease.

 

"Shiro." Allura spoke, forgoing the title as she sometimes did when she was particularly serious. "You know you can tell me what they are. I know bottling it up never..."

 

The offer no longer even phased him. Allura was his oldest friend, one that he might've even considered a wife if their paths had not led to the church. Only someone with no shame have her bear the same burden as he did.

 

"The good Lord never gives us more than we can bear. I assure you I'll be fine, Allura." Shiro promised her, gently but firmly. That settled it, for Allura knew all too well that Shiro's compassion and loyalty was only rivaled by his stubbornness.

 

The nun sighed. "If you say so, Father Shiro. I can only hope you have more sense than to commit deceit. In the House of the Lord, no less." She added, glancing at the cross behind him.

 

"I'd be a terrible Father if I did, now wouldn't I." Shiro joked. She gave a smile that didn't quite reach to her eyes.

 

"Come then. It's best to turn in early-we have a long day tomorrow. You haven't forgotten about our guests, have you?"

 

The thought managed to put a smile on Shiro's face. For the first time in years their sleepy little church would have a new addition to the ranks, a personal recommendation from Archbishop Altor himself. Everyone at the church was dying to see who this golden child would be, and Shiro had heard every version of his or her identity from "bastard child of royalty" to "the next archbishop-in-grooming".

 

"Suppose, Allura, we really did have the next archbishop here, in our church. Do you think we should put up a sign?"

 

Allura scoffed. "What are we, farmers advertising their "award-winning" potatoes? I'd say a small addition to the signpost would suffice-maybe that'll give Sister Rachel the slice of humble pie she so desperately needs."

Shiro snorted with laughter at the sheer disdain on Allura's face.

 

"Fierce words, Sister."

 

Allura gave him a wry smile as they headed back to their chambers. "Shiro, the Lord teaches us to love our neighbor and love our enemies. He never said we had to love the combination of the two."

 

*~*

 

Morning streamed in through the closed curtains, bright and joyous. Perhaps the Lord had really answered his prayers, because Shiro had actually made it through the night without awakening. The thought was enough to warrant a prayer of thanks, kneeling by the bed and still dressed in his sleeping clothes.

 

A basin of water had been left at his door by one of the many orphans the church housed. Shiro took it, scrubbing his face and hands with soft brown soap from a jar. Patting down his face with a worn towel, he peeked into the cracked looking-glass hanging over the basin. Sharp jet-black eyes traveled over the strong, straight lines of his jaw and nose, lingering on the tuft of white hair where his bangs would've been and the narrow scar across the bridge of his nose.

 

Time stopped for no one, Shiro thought ruefully as he stared at his reflection. He was one of the youngest priests out there, having started his training as soon as he turned eighteen and qualifying to actually serve as one when he was in his mid twenties. But the ongoing sleepless nights had taken their toll, leaving him with heavy bags under his eyes and minute wrinkles at the corners. The children had picked up on the change quickly, one even piping up to him that he "looked as old as her father".

 

It hurt more than he would admit, considering her father was in his forties.

 

He quickly shook those thoughts away-there was no place for vanity when you were a servant of the Lord-and finished his morning routine by donning his cassock and winding his cherished rosary around his wrist. Already the smells of cooking breakfast was wafting up through the window, and if his nose was correct there would be a bright red dab of strawberry preserves on their black bread today. Even Coran must've been excited about the new arrival-the fragrant berries were a rare treat, reserved for Christmas breakfasts and Easter lunch.

 

Shiro quickly padded out the door, mouth already watering at the thought of breakfast.

 

As it turned out Coran had gone one step further and added a pat of butter on top of the preserves, which made even the dry, rock-hard bread seem like a treat. While Allura was fussing over the youngest ones Shiro quietly doled out half of his strawberries onto her portion, knowing she could use the extra sugar after dealing with the little imps. Besides, even though she would never admit it she loved their tangy, delicate sweetness more than anything, and if anyone deserved the extra treat it was her.

 

As expected, her eyes lit up with delight at the mountain of scarlet berries. "Coran must've had quite the harvest this year, if he's managing to put this much on everyone's plate." Allura said cheerfully, mouth full of preserves and bread. Even though some might've written her off as "vulgar" Shiro only found it endearing.

 

"I heard he was experimenting with a new breed. Looks like it went well." Shiro replied.

 

Allura sighed softly. "Maybe this'll be a sign of better things for the new year. I still shudder at the mere sight of bean porridge."

 

Shiro laughed, even though he too shuddered at the thought of the sickly green broth they had to swallow during the long, harsh winter. That had been one of the greatest hardships along with the constant cold, but the sheer toll that dreary gray skies could take on a soul had been harsher than anything. Two months of soft blue spring and he still felt as though he could never get enough sunshine in his bones to stave the cold off.

 

"Ah well, we all made it through relatively unscathed. Surely the Lord will bless us with something new and good after we faced so many trials last winter." Shiro spoke cheerfully, cramming the last crust into his mouth.

 

Their talk was cut short by Coran hurrying over to them. "Shiro, Allura! There's a wagon headed straight for us!"

 

Allura gasped. "They're already here?"

 

"It can't be, the letter said late night. Are you sure it isn't someone else's? Farmer Rolo's, perhaps?" Shiro asked.

 

"It's coming from the northern mountains. Why would anyone from town go there?" Coran replied. That settled it, for no one in their sane mind would go somewhere so treacherous.

 

"Well...I was hoping to do a bit of spring cleaning beforehand, first impressions and whatnot...but I suppose he or she'll have to take us as is." Allura said briskly, eliciting a cheer from the children at the table.

 

"Don't get your hopes up, you lot. You know this only means we'll do it after the new fish arrives." Coran said with a twinkle in his eye, eliciting a round of groans and protests.

 

"Oh, no fair Coran! We have cleaning every week!" Lance, the rascal of the family whined.

 

"Yeah! How come we have to do spring cleaning on top of that? Logically, all accumulated dust should be reduced to zero every Wednesday, which is sufficient to hold us over until the next session. The seasons has no impact on the amount of filth that is being tracked indoors, so there is no logical reason to increase the cleansing variable. It’s just illogical." Pidge protested, eyes round as an owl's.

 

“Well, Pidge, who says we’re logical people?” Allura said gaily. Shiro nodded emphatically.

 

“She’s right. She’s horribly illogical.”

 

Allura raised a mocking fist at him, making Shiro cower in fear.

 

“Besides, Pidge, we don’t just clean our rooms and kitchens like we always do on Wednesdays. We’re much overdue to give the stained glass a nice fresh polish, and the poor cows could use a spot of new paint on their walls, don’t you think? Think of those poor cows, ashamed of how spotty and chipped their walls are.” Allura coaxed. Thankfully, as smart and bookish as Pidge was she still had yet to lose her childish empathy.

  
“I guess…” Pidge sighed dramatically, suckling on her spoon. Allura smiled, giving her a good rub on the head.

 

“Now, let’s get started, shall we?”

 

Shiro smiled at her masterful manipulation, standing up first. “But I think before that, all of us should go greet our new family. Let’s go out and meet the man himself, hm?”

 

The children let out cheers of excitement, while Allura merely rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Father Shiro. I can’t decide if you’re more of a help to this church or a bother.”

 

“I will have you know I have always tried my hardest to be the latter.” He replied jokingly as they led the children out of the dining hall like a family of ducklings.

 

*~*

Lance stood on his tiptoes, frowning at the line where the road connecting the mountains to the church disappeared below the hill. “Is he here yet?”

 

“It could be a she.” Hunk contradicted.

 

“I hope it is. It would be nice to have more girls around here.” Pidge sighed. As of now she and Shay were the only girls in the facility, among nearly ten other boys.

 

“Hear, hear.” Allura fervently agreed. “No more boys tracking in dirt and keeping dead cockroaches under their pillows.”

 

Lance’s indignant squawks of “that was one time, Miss Allura!” were abruptly cut short by the clop-clop of horse hooves approaching them. The children’s eyes collectively widened to the size of dinner plates, leading to Shiro physically restraining a couple of the younger ones from jumping out and dashing out into the road for a better look. Slowly, a horse’s head emerged over the top of the hill, followed by its body and then the wagon, holding one lone traveler with dark shaggy hair. Although his back was turned to them Shiro knew him to be a boy, as the girls would have their hair in long braids per custom.

 

Shiro nodded respectfully at the driver when it stopped in front of their church. “The Church of Lionsberg, ah reckon?” He asked, pushing his hat up.

 

“That’s right.” Shiro told him.

 

“Well, here’s your stop. Go on then.” The man called towards the boy in the back, who did not budge, merely staring out at the hill that he had come over.

 

“Hi, mister!” Lance called out first, waving his hand at the new boy. That seemed to jolt him out of his thoughts as he finally turned towards them, revealing his face.

 

Shiro’s heart nearly stopped at how beautiful he was.

 

His jet black hair was shaggy yet thick, glistening like the gossamer of spider silk. It stood out stark against the milky face, a sculpted harmony of petal soft lines. Two wide violet eyes-he had never even known such a shade could exist-blinked at them innocently, framed by long, thick lashes.

 

"Hello." His voice was surprisingly deep and sure, quite the contrast to the plump cherry lips that formed the words. The softened 'l's denoted the accent of the capital, but it wasn't very noticeable. Perhaps he had only stayed there a short while.

 

“Welcome to Lionsberg!” Allura was the first to reply cheerfully as he stepped down from the wagon, rucksack in hand. Shiro was surprised by how small it was-it could maybe hold a cassock and a bible, but not much else. Was that all that remained of his past life?

 

“I’m Sister Allura, the Head Nun. This is Father Shiro. Together we preside over the church.” Allura told the boy. “What might your name be?”

 

“Keith.”

 

“Last name?”

 

The boy shook his head. “None. Just…Just Keith.” Shiro raised an eyebrow at the odd name-what kind of a person didn’t have a last name? Even the orphans had them, bestowed upon them through the combined efforts of Allura, Shiro, and Coran, who feared that namelessness would further cement their uncertain origins.

 

“Oh? Well, Just Keith, we’re happy to have you here. Brother Coran will show you to your room—right now we have some spring cleaning that’s long overdue.” Allura said, a chorus of unhappy protests rising up from behind her like a small angry cloud.

 

“Thank you.” He murmured, heading towards Coran. A dull pain suddenly spread out from Shiro’s foot as Keith stumbled over him.

 

“Oopsa-daisy.” Shiro muttered, catching the stumbling boy’s elbow.

 

The look of horror and disgust that shot across the boy’s angelic face was unmistakable, as Keith jerked his arm away from him as if he was composed of a particularly disgusting pile of mud. Shiro blinked, confused and hurt by his reaction.

For a moment his lips parted almost as if to apologize, but he ended up turning away and silently tailing Coran into the church.

 

Shiro had literally spent 5 minutes in his company, without saying so much as saying a single word to him. And already he treated him like he was the carrier of a potent, human-killing virus.

 

If that wasn’t a positive omen he didn’t know what was.


	2. The Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith meet Slav

“And then Matt wanted to show her something cool, so he caught the newt and took it home. The cockroaches were supposed to be its food. It’s not my fault Hunk thought it would be funny to shove them under my pillow.” Lance finished, adding another lick of paint to the spotted wall.

  
Shiro mm-hmed distractedly as he did the same. Normally he loved the little boy’s stories about life in the church, often sneaking off to speak with him when he didn’t feel like doing the endless amounts of paperwork that somehow came with being a priest. Allura never failed to chide him for showing favoritism, but he was weak to their innocent warmth, like drops of honey on his tongue.

But right now his head was crowded with bright sunlight and cherry lips, curling in disgust as warm cotton scraped harshly against his hand. He had been thin, Shiro realized dully. Incredibly thin—he had fully closed his hand around his upper arm without even trying. Yet surprisingly strong, if he could prise himself out of his grip like that without breaking a sweat.

Why? Maybe he didn’t like…being greeted? Or people grabbing him. Or people. That could certainly happen, even if he wasn’t sure what a person with such misanthropic tendencies was doing training to become a priest.

There was another possibility clawing at the edges of his consciousness, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, splattering paint across the wall in an overdramatic fashion to drive it out of his mind.

“Are you alright, Shiro?” Lance asked, concernedly studying the haphazard paint job the walls were getting. Allura might’ve rebuked him for not calling him sir, but to be honest he never felt old enough to be addressed in such a formal manner.

“Hm?” Shiro asked, jolting slightly.

“You’re getting paint all over your robe.” Lance pointed out, gesturing to the flecks of white on his black cassock. Shiro closed his eyes and silently mouthed his irritation—he had been so occupied by what had happened earlier that he had forgotten he still had his robes on. Now he would have to wash it all over again.

“Mm. I’ve not been getting enough sleep lately. It must be affecting me.” Shiro murmured, rubbing at his face.

“Why?” Lance queried, round eyes full of genuine concern. The gesture put a smile to his face and a hollow pit to his stomach.

Nightmares, he answered in his head. “I don’t know. I’m thinking of getting Allura to make me some of the elderflower wine. That might help me sleep.”

“Is it good?” Lance asked innocently. Shiro snorted, practically able to see the cogs turning in the boy’s head. The impish boy had a sweet tooth like no one else’s, always sneaking into the castle to charm Coran into giving him an extra treat—and getting them too, if he knew the old man.

“No. It’s terribly bitter.”

“Bummer.”

*~*

After finishing the paint job Shiro headed back to the church, knowing he should be getting a start on the week’s sermon. Unfortunately, as he climbed up the steps and turned the corner to head into his study, a familiar head of ginger hair came into his line of sight.

“So these rooms are where the children normally study and play after they come home from school. That’s Allura’s office, and there’s Father Shiro’s—” Coran dramatically spun around to point directly at him. Shiro stifled a laugh at how comically his eyes widened. “Erm, face apparently. What happened to your cassock?”

“Forgot to take it off.” Shiro replied, letting his gaze stray to Keith. As expected he cast his eyes downwards, refusing to meet his own. What a joy training him would be, Shiro thought dryly.

“That’s hardly like you to be so spacey.” Coran commented, casting a glance towards the clock in the hallway and practically jumping out of his skin. “Good Lord! Shiro, I hate to abandon my duties but could you take Keith and show him the rest of the church? Lunch must be prepared by noon, and it’s already a quarter to eleven!”

Shiro hesitated—spending any amount of time together with someone who apparently reviled his very existence was not a pastime he usually partook in. But really, he was to be his charge, and certainly he couldn’t teach him through telepathic communication. They had to break the ice at some point.

  
Of course, his real motivation might have come from the unfinished sermon in his study, but really who cared about such trivial details?

“Of course, Coran. Come along then.” He said, giving the boy a tentative smile. At least Keith nodded, clutching at his elbow. Silently, he followed him down the creaky wooden staircase.

“So, has Coran shown you your room?” Shiro asked as they headed towards the sleeping quarters, noticing he still clutched his rucksack.

“N…no.” He murmured.

Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “You’d think that would be the first thing he’d do.”

Keith cracked a wry smile, Shiro’s heart skipping a beat at the sight for some unfathomable reason. “I think Coran was much more interested about my apprenticeship under Father Altor.”

Well. He hadn’t expected him to be this friendly after the whole scene, but why look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Yes, well, you must understand we don’t usually get visitors from ‘the big city’. Even Coran’s never been out of here. Or Allura. Or…any of the children, for that matter.”

“What about you?”

Shiro laughed airily, perhaps too much so as he ended up choking on his own spit. “Ack—Oh, I’ve only been out once, for a month to train under the Archbishop and become recognized as an official priest.” He finally spoke once he recovered from his coughing fit.

“When?” Keith asked. It wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary to ask—he must’ve been wondering whether he could have seen him, after all. That didn’t stop Shiro’s heart from thumping madly against his ribcage.

“Oh, I honestly don’t remember. It was so long ago.” Shiro replied, cheerfully brushing off the question as he opened the door to Keith’s room.  
Allura had furnished it herself with the little money the church had set aside for the new addition, and the room was nearly bare save for the basest necessities. A sensible iron-frame bed stood in the corner, already equipped with a thin mattress and a patchwork quilt. Shiro recognized it to be Shay’s work, as she was the only one with enough patience to create something so enormous and beautiful. Allura knew her way around a needle well enough, but much like his sermons she always had some excuse for neglecting to partake in any sort of needlework more strenuous than a rip in the elbow.

To the right of the window a sturdy wooden writing desk stood on stout iron legs, a similarly styled chair pushed into the small space beneath. The curve of the glass sheathing the candle lamp glinted in the sunlight, patiently awaiting the long, sleepless nights that Keith would have to spend studying the Holy Book.  
Shiro had his own wash basin and towel, but apparently Keith was not yet important enough to warrant the expense as that was all the furniture that Keith’s room held. Still, it was clear that Allura had tried to make it as homey as she could without intruding on the owner—the cheerful curtains with green leaves on white cotton, as well as the square cushion next to the pillow with a smiling cat stitched into the cover were proof of that.

“So, your new room. What do you think?” Shiro asked him as he placed his rucksack gently on the bed.

“It’s…very, um, cheerful.” Keith said stiffly, sounding as though only some of his thoughts had been filtered through to his mouth.

Alright, so maybe he didn’t like cheerful. That could always be, Shiro reasoned. But was it so bad that he had to make it so obvious? Between the scene earlier and his clear discomfort now, it seemed as though he really didn’t want to be here. What was Altor thinking, sending someone so unwilling?

“Right. Um, do you want to continue looking around, or do you want to stay here and rest? You’ve come a long way after all.” Shiro offered. Even though he’d initially taken up the request because he wanted to procrastinate, now his case of “writer’s block” seemed a far superior option to spending any more time with someone who was this uncomfortable to be around.

But to his surprise he shook his head. “I’ll, um, continue looking around. I need to know my way around if I’m going to be the priest here, don’t I?”

Shiro nodded, letting out an internal sigh. He supposed he’d just have to keep trying.

“Alright then. Let’s show you the rest of our quaint little church.”

It seemed natural to start with the closest attraction, so Shiro gestured in a sweeping motion towards the doors of the children’s bedrooms. “Well, this entire wing here is the sleeping quarters. These unmarked wooden doors are all for the children. Allura’s is that one with the brass nameplate, the innermost door, and mine is right to the left of yours.”

Keith barely cast a glance at his and Allura’s doors before focusing on the children’s. “You must have a lot of orphans.” He remarked, sweeping his gaze over the fifteen identical doors.

“Not really, thank goodness. Only six of them are occupied—back before my time, this village was a stone’s throw away from a major battleground. As you can expect, a lot of children became orphans. This church was built to house all of them.” Shiro replied, heading for the staircase that would take them down to the first floor.

“What’s that iron door, down at the end?” Keith asked, pointing to the hulking structure that was as out of place in this quaint old church as a wolf in a snuggle of chicks.

“The door? Oh.” Shiro tried to smile serenely, but he was fairly sure his left eye twitching gave it away. “I suppose you had to meet him sooner or later. Why don’t I introduce you to our resident engineer?”

Sending up a silent prayer for patience, Shiro stopped in front of the door and rapped on it three times, followed by two long knocks. Slav insisted, saying he would only open it if he had a confirmation that Shiro was “the real Shiro” by using the special knock.

Shiro held his breath—as Slav put it, even if he had a confirmation he only had a one in three chance of opening the door, because there was always the chance that the enemy might have coerced it out of him. At least God must’ve thought he had suffered enough, for the door miraculously opened on the third try.

“Good morning Slav!” Shiro whisper-shouted—make a few too many loud noises around Slav and he was prone to grabbing a shotgun and shoveing it at a man’s jewels.

The room was a rat’s nest as usual, every square inch crammed with books, papers, metal bits that clearly had some meaning to Slav because he shrieked every time Shiro came in contact in them. Perhaps it was the physical incarnation of the little sanity he seemed to have left.

Slav was clearly in a cheerful mood, because he didn’t demand that he move his head 4.5 inches to the right to “accommodate for the reality in which the wind closed the door wrong and his neck got caught in the way, leading to his severed head falling into a very delicate scientific experiment he was conducting and ruining both his career as well as his chances of survival”. Instead he spun around in his chair to face him, owlish amber eyes blinking with the structure and rhythm of a well-timed marching band.

“Father Shiro. What brings you here? Normally you would be in your study by this hour, writing your sermons with that typewriter of yours.” The words were practically an accented buzz, spat out faster than Lance could sneak cookies from the pantry. He shook his head, shaggy blueish-gray hair flying to and fro. “No routine, no routine at all. Do you know how dangerous that is? How do you hope to separate your variables when there is no controlled environment?”

I don't, because God has chosen to grace me with the gift of sanity, Shiro replied silently. “I wanted to introduce you to our new member of the family. Slav, meet Keith. He’s here to become a priest. Keith, meet Slav. He’s the resident engineer…did I say that already?”

“Yes.”

“Goodness, he must be rubbing off on me. Anyway, a few rules. Slav is not to be disturbed during the day or night. He usually doesn’t come out, and takes his meals from his own sources. If you need to call him for something, leave a note on his door and tap three times. Anything you want to add, Slav?” Shiro offered, turning to the lanky man. He had already lost interest, whirring and clanking away at his invention. “That means get out. Let’s leave him be, shall we?” Shiro closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh of relief that could’ve crashed through the floor from its girth.

“You don’t like him.” Keith noted. Shiro twisted his mouth into something between a rueful grin and tired frown. “Don’t like is a strong expression. He’s just…extremely obsessive over the littlest things. That was one of his good days.”

Keith’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, making him look like a confused child. A bubble of warmth bloomed in Shiro’s chest. “What happens on the bad?”

“He’ll start screaming about a do-over and scrubbing his walls clean. He makes such a racket that on those days we just give up on sleep.” Shiro replied dryly.

“Why do you keep him around then?”

“This is sanctuary. We are required to take whoever needs help. Slav is one of those cases.”

Keith only looked more confused. “Even if they’re…like that?”

The older man cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“…High-maintenance.” The raven-haired boy finally murmured, after some time finding the words.

“Especially because they are.” Shiro said with a rueful smile. Or else he wouldn’t be here, would he?  
It was odd that he didn’t seem to know about the rules of sanctuary. The average churchgoer might not know, but he must have finished the preliminary training if he was at the level of apprenticeship. It should’ve been common knowledge to him.

Keith seemed to mull that over for a minute, eyes fixated on something Shiro couldn’t see. “Um…Father Shiro?” Keith finally spoke, screwing his face up at the honorific. Shiro unconsciously mimicked his expression.

“Just Shiro, please.” Shiro replied automatically.

“I have a message from Father Altor. He told me to tell you that—he sends his chamomile—no, he sends—ack!” Keith sputtered, knocking himself on the side of his head as if that would somehow jostle the words into the right position. “Father Altor sends his love, and he hopes to see some wild chrysanthemums in the gardens next summer. That’s what he said.” He finished breathlessly. Shiro blinked, utterly confused. He’d never known the archbishop had a green thumb.

“Wild chrysanthemums, eh? What an odd request.” Shiro mused. Certainly they were plentiful in the summer—one of the children’s favorite pastimes was collecting them as bouquets for Allura or creating all sorts of jewelry from their sturdy green stems. He could have that arranged.

“I’m surprised he’s close enough with you to make such a request.” Keith commented out of the blue. Shiro nearly let a smile twist across his features. “Close” was one way to describe their relationship. “The bearer of secrets that could have him burned at the stake” was another.

“Yes, well, I’m surprised too. He must’ve held me in a lot higher regard than I presumed.”

  
Keith shrugged. “Anyway, back to the subject. Coran has shown me the outside fixtures of the church, and he’s shown me the studies, and you’ve shown me the sleeping quarters. But I do not know where the actual church is, or the kitchens. I require knowledge of those locations.”

Shiro nearly giggled at the boy’s odd way of phrasing things. He hadn’t noticed before because of how little he spoke, but his speech sounded as though it could’ve come from the dictionary—or a catechism, even. That little chink in his stoic armor softened his disapproval of the boy, just enough to leave a burst of endearment in its place.

“Alright, golden boy. Let’s go see the others.”

**Author's Note:**

> 30 thousand fanfics and not one of Priest Shiro? Y'all have weird priorities
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
